Brevity is not my strong point so this weekend’s Trifextra is definitely going to be a challenge: a letter of apology in a mere 33 words. I think most of my sentences come in around that word count. Here goes:
~
Dear Grandma
I’m sorry about hitting your guests with a bat; I just wanted to know who had the wooden leg. I’m sorry that was mean and I won’t do it again.
Jo(e)
~ Trigger Alert ~
She popped the smooth pills out of their blister pack, the snap of each one clear and sharp, and lined them up on the worktop. Methodical, taking control.
There was a bitter taste in her mouth that no amount of water would wash away, the acrid bitterness of shame mixed with the sting of guilt and the sourness of failure. It had given her an ache in her head and a weight in her chest that no amount of painkiller could soothe away.
She kept popping. Rhythmic, taking control.
Her career had been the roles that she had craved since childhood, her job was to love and care. What had she left now? Her baby had died, her husband had left her. There was nothing. Her whole world had come crashing down around her. Twice.
She discarded the last pack and eyed up the columns of white pills, stark against the worktop. She had had enough of the questions, the stares, the judgements. She had had enough of waking with that taste in her mouth, of living with it day after day.
She picked up the first pill and placed it in her mouth. It was smooth and cool.
Maybe no amount of painkiller could soothe this pain but she wanted relief.
She picked up the next.
Most people confuse flavor with taste. These two words are not synonymous. Flavor and taste are no more interchangeable than Pennsylvania and Philadelphia. The second word in each pair is a subunit of the first. Your sense of taste is limited in scope to what your taste buds can detect. Flavor is a composite term embracing taste, smell, and mouth feel. (This last word describes the sensory responses other than gustation that take place on your lips and within your mouth. Touch, temperature, pain, kinesthetics, and the common chemical sense all help determine mouth feel.)
I’m afraid that my response took me down more of a ‘taste’ route as evidenced by the quote above. Although I don’t like to write dark stuff like (well it’s not what I would want to read, I want escapism, solace and freedom from my reading), this just asked to be written down. Thank you for reading.
Oh and the word count was 216, well under (for once!), but there wasn’t really anything more that I could add.
This is the woefully over the word count version of this week’s Red Writing Hood prompt! However maybe I’m joining a bandwagon as films all seem to be coming out on DVD with extended versions available so here’s mine:
The doorbell rang, the harsh, jarring note of an antiquated model rupturing the night.
It had been dark for hours but now the purple sky was gently being invaded by the gathering white, thick clouds. The village was snuggled in the valley, its breath rising slow and straight from a few remaining chimneys. There were sheep on the hills, drawing together in woolly groups, silent in the night. The lanes were iced over in the thickest ice of the century, cutting off the village to all but the most determined.
She stirred, surprised by the noise and her surroundings. She must have fallen asleep. It was late, far too late for visitors. She pushed the crocheted blanket to one side and drew her jumper around her tighter, shivering. The old gas fire glowed a pale amber, powerless against the worst of winter.
She eased herself up, stiff, and cautiously made her way across the room, minding the coffee table pulled up close to the sofa and the long trailing lead of the electric kettle.
She flicked on the hallway light and eyed up the door. Who on earth could it be? The bell sounded again. She muttered to herself about patience as she set about retrieving the key. She opened the door a chink, the chain still on.
“Mum!”
“What on earth are you doing here?” she opened the door properly. “You needn’t have come.”
“I left as soon as you put the phone down. I had to leave the car on the top road and walk down, it’s so icy. I reckon that’s taken nearly as long as driving here.”
She wrapped the slighter, frailer woman in her arms and they both breathed deeply, both secretly relieved to see the other.
“You better come in before we both catch our death of cold.”
The daughter released her mother and stepped into the tiled hallway, noting the cold air. She didn’t take off her outer things.
“I’ll make us both a cup of tea,” she said, heading to the kitchen.
“I brought the kettle into the living room, to make it easier.”
A standard lamp was switched on and the kettle filled. They both sat down on the sofa, a little awkward for a moment.
“Mum, why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
The mother shrugged her shoulders.
“Don’t worry, it’s going to be alright. We’ll get through this together, I promise. It’ll be alright.”
She drew her mother close and pulled the blanket over them.
“No one should be alone at a time like this.”
Outside, the snow began to fall.
